


and for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts

by Shadowcrawler



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Worship, Christmas Decorations, Disney Movies, Domesticity, F/F, Femslash February, First Meetings, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, Interior Decorating, Light Angst, Non-Chronological, Office Sex, Reconciliation, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Sickfic, Stargazing, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets from a love story, where everything didn't go to shit in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. last kiss

**Author's Note:**

> So I am just completely fed up with there being very little canon-based fic in the Victoria/Isabelle tag that doesn't end in death, and I decided to just fix it myself. I'll be posting one a day for Femslash February, and most of them will be domestic nonsense and character studies because that's what I wanted and wasn't getting. 
> 
> Also, all of the prompts and the title are from Taylor Swift songs, because why not? They might have nothing to do with the actual songs, and some of them are a bit of a stretch, but I wanted to be kinda creative.

“’belle, I have a meeting with Fury in fifteen minutes,” murmurs Victoria as Isabelle nuzzles her neck. “I have to go.”

“Do you?” asks Isabelle with a smirk. “You can’t be five minutes late?”

“You know I can’t,” Victoria sighs, the sentence ending in a yelp as Isabelle nips at her shoulder. “Not if I want to make Level eight in the next year.”

Isabelle hums against her skin. “Alright, well, hurry back. I’m only here for a few days till they ship me out again and I don’t want to waste time.”

“Bossy,” teases Victoria, pulling back reluctantly. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Wait,” says Isabelle, pouting, “one more?”

Victoria rolls her eyes but leans in to kiss her on the lips again. It’s not just a peck, either. “There. _Now_ I’m going.”

“I’ll put on something nice for you when you get back,” says Isabelle, “if that’s an incentive.”

Victoria just chuckles as she heads out into the hallway.


	2. the lucky one

“I’m lucky.”

Victoria whirls around to look at her girlfriend, who’s leaning on the doorframe watching her pouring a cup of tea. “Oh, no,” she scolds. “We agreed we weren’t going to do that.”

“Do what?” Isabelle asks, tone deceptively innocent.

“That insipid ‘you’re the best’ ‘no you’ couples talk.” Victoria adopts a higher pitch to mock the style of speaking. “It’s appalling. We’re grown adults in a mature relationship, we shouldn’t have to resort to high school cliches.”

Chuckling, Isabelle comes over to slip her arms around Victoria’s waist. “But I mean it,” she teases, kissing Victoria’s shoulder. “I am lucky to have you.”

Victoria sighs but doesn’t try to squirm out of Isabelle’s arms, instead settling back against her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”


	3. how you get the girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guess who made up a bunch of shit about how SHIELD levels work? ME.
> 
> also, Bobbi-Isabelle BROTP.

“Who’s that?” Isabelle nods at a stern-looking dark-haired woman eating lunch by herself.

“That’s Victoria Hand,” replies Bobbi, who’s Isabelle’s sort-of-friend (she’s not sure if it counts, since they joined about the same time but really only started talking after their promotions to Level three last month). “Level four agent. Kind of a hardass, as I hear.” 

“Oh, _that’s_ Agent Hand?” Isabelle raises an eyebrow. “Interesting.”  

Bobbi rolls her eyes. “No, seriously, don’t get any ideas. I hear she doesn’t even go out to get drinks with the other Level fours. I seriously doubt she’d want anything to do with a Level three.” 

“You doubt my charm,” says Isabelle with a smirk.  

“Not with anyone else,” Bobbi replies. “But she’s really not gonna be amused…” Isabelle gets up before she can finish, and she hears Bobbi mutter, “I’ll get nice flowers for your funeral.” 

“Hi,” Isabelle says, sitting down across from Agent Hand before she loses her nerve.  

Agent Hand glances up from her phone, and to say that there’s murder in her eyes wouldn’t be too far off the mark. “Do you need something?” 

“Need? No. I just hate seeing a pretty woman eating alone.” 

Hand puts her phone down. “You try that line with every woman you meet, or just the ones you think will tell you to fuck off if you don’t butter them up?” 

“Depends,” says Isabelle with an easy shrug. “I’ve got others. Name’s Isabelle Hartley. You’re Agent Hand, right?” 

“Yes,” says Hand, still sounding wary. But she hasn’t gotten up and left yet, either. “Are you just here to hit on me, Isabelle Hartley?” 

“Well, I was hoping for more than that.” Isabelle smirks. “Dinner sometime, maybe? I’d like to get to know you better, you’re intriguing.” 

“Am I?” Victoria asks. “Well, that’s good to know. I’ll...consider it.” 

Isabelle nods as she stands up again. “That’s all I’m asking. Have a good day, Agent Hand.” 

“You as well,” Hand replies, turning back to her phone. 

Returning to the table where Bobbi’s definitely been pretending not to watch the entire exchange, Isabelle grins and says, “Told you.” 

“You didn’t get a date,” Bobbi corrects her. “You had a five-minute conversation. Which, granted, is more than I’ve heard anyone getting out of her on a non-SHIELD subject, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna lead to anything.” 

Isabelle tosses her head and doesn’t reply. 

Not five minutes later, Agent Hand gets up from her table and heads out of the cafeteria, but on her way out she drops a piece of paper on the end of the table where Isabelle and Bobbi are sitting. Isabelle plays it cool until Hand has left the room and then slides down to grab the paper so fast she bangs her knee against one of the table legs. “Fuck,” she hisses, but when she unfolds the paper and sees a phone number written on it, along with _Text, don’t call_ , she forgets the momentary pain and smirks. “And _that’s_ how it’s done,” she gloats, sliding back to show Bobbi.  

“Jesus christ,” says Bobbi, eyes wide. “You’re a wizard.”

Isabelle gives her an exaggerated, faux-modest shrug. “Not last I checked.”


	4. style

Victoria’s always been particular about her clothes. When she was younger it was button-up blouses and pencil skirts and the occasional cardigan, when she was  _ much _ younger it was fishnet stockings, black lipstick, and a beloved secondhand leather jacket. She mostly switched to pants when she joined SHIELD, because she knows it’s absurd to wear skirts at this organization; besides, the pantsuits help reinforce the no-nonsense air she’s cultivated. They’re important.

Isabelle, on the other hand, dresses like a trucker, or maybe a member of a motorcycle gang. It’s all faded jeans and men’s button-ups with her, and a couple of leather jackets that she switches out even though they’re basically indistinguishable. Victoria shops designer, Isabelle has to be nagged to go shopping at all.

“My clothes are fine,” she insists. “I’m wearing the tactical suit half the time anyway.”

Victoria rolls her eyes.  _ She’s _ not the one who has to arrange for new clothes every time she’s put on an undercover mission. 

Still, it is fun to meet Isabelle at the door in one of her own shirts when she comes home. That always ends well for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided teenage Victoria was probably a babygoth and I'm never letting go of this mental image because it's the best.


	5. the last time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember if I mentioned this, but these aren't in any kind of chronological order (except a few upcoming ones, which will be marked).

They had an apartment in the city.

Well, technically it was theirs, in theory. In practice one of them would use it for a few days or weeks at a time when they had leave, and the other would join her if possible. Once they’d had an entire two weeks off at the same time and barely left the bed except to cook and shower occasionally. (That was when Isabelle learned that Victoria hogs the remote. She did, at least, listen to Isabelle’s lobbies for Food Network game shows or shitty SyFy movies, most of the time.) 

But they can’t stay there now. Too dangerous, since they’ve both faked their deaths and god only knows what Hydra’s next move will be. If Isabelle could find Victoria, god only knows who could find them now that they’re together. The only reasonable thing to do now is hole up somewhere in Europe until all this blows over. Then, maybe, they can come back. 

Isabelle understands that. But she feels strange, unexpected pangs of regret as they work on quickly packing up the slightly generic decor, find all the places where they’ve both stashed money in the walls and floor and furniture. It wasn’t their home, not really, but it could’ve been. She perches on the edge of the bed, which is still made, while she hears Victoria talking to the travel agent in the other room.  

“Our flight leaves at ten AM,” says Victoria, coming in after a few minutes.  

“So, six AM alarm,” Isabelle replies with a wry smile. 

“Unfortunately.” Victoria glances around the room, which seems much emptier without their meager attempts to make the apartment look lived-in. “Means we’d better turn in pretty soon.” 

“Last night here,” murmurs Isabelle. “Seems weird. I mean, we didn’t have all that many nights here, not together, but…” 

“I know,” Victoria says, sitting down to lean against her. “It’ll be...odd, starting in a new place and actually living there and not in a secret underground base or a plane.” 

Isabelle snorts. “I won’t miss that. And...being with you every day will be nice.”

Victoria rests her head on Isabelle’s shoulder and takes her hand. “Yes, it will.”


	6. blank space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the shortest one of any of these. It's also maybe my favorite.

“No, we’re not putting _that_ over the fireplace!”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s art.”

“It’s a goddamn pinup girl, Isabelle!”

“It’s a very tasteful image of a woman on a motorcycle about to go for a swim!”

“In what world is seeing part of a woman’s tit _tasteful_?”

“Fine, fine. We’ll put that one up somewhere else. What about this one?”

“ _Isabelle.”_

“You said tits weren’t tasteful! This is a flower, it’s perfectly fine!”

“Do you think I don’t know an O’Keefe when I see one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paintings are [_Clothing Optional ___](http://cyrilhuzeblog.com/wp-content/uploads/cyril-huze-pinup3.jpg)by David Uhl and[ _Red Canna_](http://theredlist.com/media/database/fine_arts/arthistory/painting/realism_figurative_painting/georgia-o-keefe/001-georgia-o-keefe-theredlist.jpg).


	7. sparks fly

They’re the worst-kept secret in SHIELD.

The no-fraternization rule is theoretically ironclad, but even though they tried to keep it a secret at first, after a while Victoria gets tired of sneaking around like horny teenagers. “It’s ridiculous,” she says, flopping down onto Isabelle’s bed. She’s just had to duck into Isabelle’s closet (the humor did not escape her) when Bobbi came by Isabelle’s bunk to ask her a question about the training schedule for some new recruits. “If I’m not sleeping in your room, you’re in mine. We are  _ adults,  _ not children at boarding school who are afraid of getting caught by the headmaster!”

Isabelle shrugs. “I mean, you’re the one who wants that promotion so badly, not me.” 

“Fuck the promotion,” Victoria sighs, giving her a kiss. “I’d just like to be able to hold your hand in public occasionally.”

“They’ll say you’re going soft,” teases Isabelle. “No one will take you seriously anymore.”

“They will,” replies Victoria with a smirk. “I’ll make sure of it.”

So the next time they’re walking together, she slips her hand into Isabelle’s and puts on the face that dares anyone to challenge her about anything. Isabelle feels more comfortable standing close to her when they appear together publicly, and when they eat in the cafeteria they sit with their bodies touching and their heads almost pressed together. Once Isabelle even pushed her luck and kissed Victoria goodbye on the cheek, and she made eye contact with Fury afterwards. He  _ definitely _ saw it. He doesn’t give a fuck.

Naturally, the rumors start flying. Mostly they’re harmless, although one or two low-ranking agents apparently feel quite bitter about those who disregard policy so blatantly. It makes Isabelle laugh, and Victoria just tosses her head haughtily.

Besides, it’s kind of fun to see just how much they can get away with.


	8. back to december

“Vic, what are you doing?” asks Isabelle, pausing in the doorway and tilting her head. 

Victoria looks up from where she’s fussing over a small fake Christmas tree. The sight of Victoria Hand draping tinsel over a tree is so odd Isabelle’s tempted to take a picture for posterity (and blackmail). “I’m decorating this tree.”

“You hate Christmas decorations. And it’s January seventeenth!”

“Well, you don’t hate them, and we were both gone on assignments over Christmas, so…” Victoria shrugs. “I thought we could have it now. I got you a present and everything.”

Isabelle laughs, running a hand through her hair. “You’re full of surprises. Where did you even get that tree?”

“It’s a secret. Called in a favor,” teases Victoria. “You want to help?”

Kneeling, Isabelle reaches into the box of ornaments that’s set off to the side. “Sure. And I’m guessing you called in a favor for these too?” She holds up a small glass ball - there are about fifteen of them in the box.

Victoria just smirks and doesn’t reply.


	9. sweeter than fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I "borrowed" Tina's name (and romance novel obsession) from a mid-2000s book series. (If you can guess which one, I'll honestly be a little surprised.)
> 
> Also, [Pregnesia](http://smartbitchestrashybooks.com/reviews/pregnesia-by-carla-cassidy-guest-review/) is a real book and I'm going to track it down and read it someday.

Isabelle’s high school best friend, Tina, had been obsessed with romance novels. Reading one per day levels of obsessed. (In retrospect, that should have been a sign they were drifting apart, but when you’ve known someone since you were in diapers that’s a hard thing to accept no matter how technically incompatible you are.)

Tina would bring a book to soccer games and Isabelle would roll her eyes. “You’re not even _watching_ ,” she would whine exaggeratedly.

“I am,” objected Tina. “I just don’t watch every second. I saw you score that goal just before you slipped and landed on your ass.”

“Of _course_ you saw that,” sighed Isabelle. “What’s this one about?” Because good friends ask about things their friends are into, even if they couldn’t actually care less.

Tina’s eyes lit up and she launched into a summary of the book, which seemed to be about a pregnant woman with amnesia ( _the fuck?_ ) who stumbles into the arms of a sexy cop, and Isabelle did her best to pay attention. It all just seemed so ridiculous to her, and she wasn’t the most romantic person to begin with. Sure, she’s “kind of” seeing her teammate Rachel sometimes, but it wasn’t anything serious. She liked it that way. Who needs to commit when she wasn’t even sure what schools she wanted to apply for over the summer?

Sometimes Tina would badger her into reading a few of them, and Isabelle would, because it made Tina happy. Most of the heroes were offputting, and the heroines were sometimes likeable and sometimes so stupid that Isabelle tossed the book across the room a few pages in. Even the couple of lesbian romances she tried, she just couldn’t imagine things like that actually happening: falling in love for a lifetime. The white picket fence, the house, the wife and kids (or, more likely, a dog, because kids were gross). It was fine for a story, but not something that would happen for her, she figured.

And then when she joined SHIELD, there really wasn’t time for anything more than flirting and the occasional fun night with a fellow agent. No harm, no foul on either side. Isabelle got used to that.

Victoria is a little different.

Victoria is mouthy, in and out of bed. She’s demanding and withdrawn all at once, only letting herself be vulnerable for moments so short Isabelle might have imagined them. She takes her time winding Isabelle up and the orgasms are amazing, but she’s always the one to come first. And, at least at first, she insists on being the one who decides when they meet, which drives Isabelle a little crazy.

But after a few months, they both soften a little. Isabelle starts staying the night in Victoria’s room, and Victoria stops pretending to hate cuddling. It turns out that once you pass some mysterious threshold of acceptability for Victoria Hand, you basically can’t get her to _stop_ casually touching you. It’s endearing, really. And sometimes Isabelle gets to come first.

They do not say the l-word, and Isabelle doesn’t think about it (much). She doesn’t want to be _that_ person.

Finally, it’s Victoria who says it. It’s as they’re both getting dressed, and it startles Isabelle so much that she says “I love you too” before she can even process what’s going on. She meant it, but it makes her wonder for a second if she missed the memo and Victoria’s been saying it for days or weeks already. It seemed as casual as the first time Victoria slipped her hand into Isabelle’s, or when she began nestling against her in bed. It just felt _right_ , Isabelle thinks.

Isabelle remembers those romance novels, sometimes, and laughs to herself. This is better.


	10. out of the woods

“Move!” hisses Victoria at the agent who’s standing in front of her. “I’m going in there!”

“Agent Hand, I can’t let you-”

Victoria shoves past him before he can get another word out. Protocols be damned, Isabelle is _hurt_ and she has to see her. She didn’t get on a redeye flight halfway across the country to be turned away by some skinny rookie who looks like he just got recruited yesterday.

“Isabelle!” Victoria calls as she bursts into the room. She’s awake, with about a dozen tubes in her, but awake and alert and Victoria can feel herself relax just slightly when Isabelle turns to look at her. So does Hill, for that matter.

“Hand,” says Hill with a cursory nod, before turning back to Isabelle. “So, seems like we’re about done here.”

“Guess so,” says Isabelle, grinning at Victoria. “I’ll let you know if I have anything else to report later.”

“See that you do,” says Hill, getting up from the chair she’s sitting in. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Isabelle gives her a jaunty wave as she leaves before looking at Victoria. “Hey.”

Victoria all but collapses next to her, grabbing the hand she offers. “How are you?”

“Been better. Couple of broken ribs, a shitton of bruises, a little dehydrated. The works.” Isabelle shrugs and then looks as if she regrets it. “I’m surprised they let you in here.”

“‘Let’ is a strong word,” Victoria admits, surprised at how she has to swallow the lump that’s suddenly appeared in her throat. “I was worried.”

“I could tell.” Isabelle smiles a bit weakly. “I’m fine, really. You didn’t have to come all this way just to see me.”

_But I did._

Victoria shakes her head and presses a kiss to Isabelle’s forehead. “Don’t be stupid. Morse texted and said the op had gone south and you were here, and I came to make sure you weren’t dying.”

Isabelle rolls her eyes. “She exaggerates. It wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Still.” Victoria puts a hand on Isabelle's arm. “I...I didn’t want to take that chance.”

Isabelle smirks, but seems to know better than to make a snarky comment and instead gently pulls Victoria in for a kiss.


	11. wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just made up Isabelle's mother's name because, well.

Victoria hands the cup of steaming tea to her bedridden, sniffling girlfriend, who takes it with a shaky smile. “Thanks,” Isabelle says, coughing. “Sorry about this. I know you wanted to clean this weekend.”

“Well, I doubt it was  _ your _ idea to get sick,” chides Victoria, smiling back. “Do you need anything else?”

“...would you read to me?”

That takes Victoria completely by surprise. “Pardon?”

Isabelle sighs. “Look, it’s stupid, but when I was home sick as a kid my mom used to read to me. It was soothing. I’ve got some books on the shelf over there, could you...please?” She makes the last word sound especially pitiful.

Victoria blinks and replies, “I, ah, I’ll take a look.” Isabelle doesn’t talk about her mother much. The least Victoria can do is humor her.

She stands up and goes over to the small bookshelf in the corner of their bedroom. It’s filled with books that Victoria had never seen before they moved into this apartment, books she didn’t even know Isabelle would have  _ read. _ Chief among these is a scuffed yellow paperback copy of  _ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland _ that looks as if it might be older than Isabelle herself. Victoria’s never read it in its entirety; she saw the Disney version as a child and was equal parts baffled and disinterested. But it’s one of the shorter options, and it seems more appropriate to read to a sick person than _The Art of War_ _. _

“How about this?” she asks, holding it up. 

“Sure,” croaks Isabelle. “That was Mom’s favorite.”

Victoria nods, coming over to sit on the bed and noticing the carefully printed names on the inside cover:  _ Marie Zelenco _ and then, in a different color pen,  _ Isabelle Hartley.  _ She smiles fondly before flipping to the first page and starting to read. 

It’s an odd little book, and not the easiest thing to read aloud, but it goes quickly and it’s certainly not dull. By the time the Dodo has suggested a Caucus race, Isabelle has curled up and dozed off, congestion making her wheeze just slightly. Victoria runs her hand down Isabelle’s back and whispers, “Love you,” before she heads out into the living room to finish the chapter herself.


	12. clean

Isabelle’s just stepping into a shower stall when she hears the door to the showers open behind her. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, except that a minute later she feels a pair of hands settle on her waist. “Hello,” purrs a familiar voice in her ear.

“Vic,” sighs Isabelle, relaxing. “What are you doing here?”

“I was watching you train with Hunter and then I followed you down here,” says Victoria, nipping at Isabelle’s neck. “To surprise you.”

“I thought you were at the Hub for a few months,” Isabelle gasps, leaning into Victoria’s touch.

“Fury needed me. Emergency onsite meeting.” Victoria slides one of her hands between Isabelle’s legs. “Then I decided to stick around for a couple days. See how things are progressing here.”

Isabelle moans, shifting to allow Victoria better access, and says, “Pretty well, I’d say. You might have to go a bit deeper to find out, though.”

“Oh?” Victoria laughs and slips one finger inside her, then two. “I think I’ve got a good handle on the situation.”

“That’s terrible,” says Isabelle with a shaky laugh. “Where’d you learn a line like that?”

“Just following your lead,” Victoria replies, stroking Isabelle’s flesh lightly.

“ _ God _ ,” Isabelle whines. “You…”

“What?” teases Victoria, speeding up her movements. “I what?”

Isabelle is too busy chasing her orgasm to answer coherently. Finally her body jerks and she lets out a long moan, almost collapsing against Victoria. “Jesus christ,” she gasps. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Victoria murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “How about you show me how much once you’re feeling up to it, and then we’ll both use this shower?”

Isabelle’s legs are still a little shaky, but she turns to face Victoria and nudges her back against one of the shower walls before sliding to her knees. “Be happy to,” she says, leaning in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...smut is scary


	13. shake it off

By the time Victoria arrives home from work, she’s completely done with everything and everyone. This job is a thousand times less demanding than SHIELD had been, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t days where she just wants to curse everyone within a five-mile radius out for being incompetent idiots.

She unlocks the door, fully expecting to see Isabelle curled up on the couch watching television and waiting for her. Instead, the apartment’s dark, save for a few candles scattered around, and there’s soft instrumental music playing.

“‘belle?” she calls, raising an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

“Surprise,” says Isabelle, coming out to wrap her arms around her and kiss her. “When you started rant-texting me earlier, I decided to make you a nice dinner and do some sappy shit to make you feel better.”

Victoria hums warmly, nestling into Isabelle’s neck for a moment. “You’re sweet,” she murmurs.

“Not really,” laughs Isabelle, “but for you, yes. The pasta’s still cooking, would you like to dance while we wait?”

“Dance?” That makes Victoria laugh. “I haven’t danced in years.”

“Neither have I, but it can’t be that hard.” Isabelle shrugs and puts one arm around her waist and the other on Victoria’s shoulder. “C’mon, follow my lead.” And she begins to sway back and forth slowly.

Victoria rolls her eyes but sways along, smiling despite herself. After a minute or so, she rests her head on Isabelle’s shoulder and whispers, “Thank you.”

Isabelle runs a hand through her hair. “My pleasure.”


	14. cold as you

Isabelle yelps when Victoria slides into bed and presses against her. “Jesus, your feet are freezing!”

“Sorry.” Victoria’s chuckle is lazy, more of a breath than anything. “I couldn’t find my slippers.”

“I know I bought you some socks for this exact purpose,” grumbles Isabelle, trying to squirm away. “They’re red and white.”

“They’re ridiculous,” Victoria groans. “I feel like I’m one of Santa’s elves when I wear them. Or a suburban housewife.”

Isabelle sighs and rolls out of bed, stumbling over to the dresser. She rummages for a minute before shouting triumphantly and pulling out two pairs of fuzzy sleep socks. “Look, I’ll wear mine too,” she says with a grin, “so we can both look like suburban housewives.”

“ _Really_?” Victoria scoffs, but when Isabelle holds a pair out to her she takes them without arguing further.

“See,” says Isabelle, slipping on her green-and-white socks, “now we’ll match.”

“I cannot believe that you want me to put these things on.”

Isabelle gets back into bed and gives Victoria her best pleading face. “What if I could convince you?”

“...how?”

“Like this,” says Isabelle, and pulls Victoria close for a kiss. Then she leans back and says “Please put them on? For me?”

Victoria sighs, but then she smiles wickedly. “I think I might need a bit more convincing.”


	15. red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There doesn't seem to be an explanation for the hair streaks in the comics, so I just improvised.
> 
> Also, color-coordinated closet inspired by my real life Victoria. <3

Isabelle’s asked her about the hair streaks before, why she does them. Victoria always shrugs the question away, saying she just likes them. But Victoria’s so put-together and purposeful - hell, she _color-coordinates_ her closet - that Isabelle can’t believe that’s the real answer.

So on one of the quiet evenings when Isabelle’s on leave and they’ve had some wine and Victoria is cuddled up against her, eyes half-closed, Isabelle asks casually, “So are you ever going to tell me why you do the hair streaks?”

Victoria blinks and, with a snort of surprise, says, “That’s the fourth time you’ve asked about them. I didn’t know you wanted to know that badly. Nosy.”

“Curious,” Isabelle corrects, reaching to run her hand through Victoria’s hair. “C’mon, Vic. There’s gotta be more of a reason than you just like it. You don’t do anything without a good reason.”

Sighing, Victoria says, “It’s - it’s ridiculous, really...I wanted to dye my hair for years when I was younger, but my parents thought it was absurd, and my school forbade it. So I decided that once I got old enough, I would do whatever I wanted with it. Once I wasn’t sixteen anymore, the appeal of bright red hair lost its appeal, not to mention it would look ridiculous, but streaks seemed like a good compromise. You see, it’s ridiculous.”

“That’s endearing,” Isabelle responds. “I like the idea of younger you feeling like she was sticking it to the Man.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “I was a little punk.”

“A cute one,” Isabelle corrects, leaning in for a kiss.


	16. treacherous

Isabelle likes video games. She’s pretty good at them, too; not  _ amazing _ but good enough to play casually, if her fellow agents want to have a go at  _ Mario Kart  _ or  _ Super Smash Bros. _ She won’t play the FPS games, but she gets along fine without them. She and Jane had a fierce ongoing  _ SSB _ tournament until they were in high school.

Victoria has never picked up a controller in her life and vaguely distrusts games as a whole. So when Isabelle sets up her old Nintendo 64 one rainy Sunday afternoon and hands Victoria the other controller, Victoria just glares. “What do you expect me to do with this?”

“Play with me,” says Isabelle, as if it’s obvious.

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun. I promise I’ll go easy on you.” Isabelle plops down next to Victoria on the couch. 

“One game,” says Victoria, glancing at Isabelle to see how she’s holding the controller. “Then I’m opting out.”

“You might have fun,” teases Isabelle, “you don’t know.”

Victoria opts to be Samus, since Isabelle says she’s the only girl character, and Isabelle takes Link, selecting the Hyrule Castle map. “I have it set on easy,” Isabelle promises. “It’ll be fun!”

Ten minutes later, Samus has lost her last life, Link is declared the victor, and Victoria is glaring at Isabelle again. “I thought you said you were going easy on me!”

Isabelle has the decency to look embarrassed. “I got caught up in it. I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Victoria puts down her controller and adjusts so her head is pillowed on Isabelle’s thigh. “Well,  _ I’m _ not going to play with you anymore, not after that.”

She dozes off watching Isabelle face off against three computer-controlled characters (Isabelle is, of course, winning).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've played SSB like, four times in my life maybe? So it's likely I got something wrong. If so, sorry about that.


	17. holy ground

Isabelle’s favorite thing about sex with Victoria is how Victoria touches her. When they’re not in any hurry, Victoria likes to press kisses all over Isabelle’s skin, starting at her neck and moving downward slowly. She’s methodical and focused, listening for Isabelle’s reactions and adjusting her movements accordingly. Most of Isabelle’s other partners have been eager to fuck her or eat her out, but Victoria takes her time, touching as much of Isabelle’s body as she can.

It makes Isabelle feel special. It makes her feel worshipped.

So one night she decides to turn the tables, and starts pressing kisses across Victoria’s neck.

“Oh,” hums Victoria, chuckling. “Taking it slow this time?”

“Trying something different,” replies Isabelle, moving to her collarbone. “You seem to like doing this for me,” she explains between kisses, “so I thought I’d try it from the other side.”

Victoria sighs and practically melts into the bed. “So far I’m liking it quite a lot.”

“Good,” murmurs Isabelle. “You’re beautiful.” She punctuates that with a nip at the top of Victoria’s breast, which makes Victoria yelp in surprise, before kissing the same spot.

“Thank you,” replies Victoria softly. “You are too.”

Isabelle pauses for a second to kiss her on the lips. “Love you.” They’ve only been saying that for a few weeks, and it still gives her a silly thrill.

“Love you too.”


	18. stay stay stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first in what I like to think of as "the post 2x01 angst trilogy," which deal with the fallout of Isabelle's death - or "death," in this story. These are chapters 18-20. Fluff will resume in 21, don't worry, but I felt this was important.

After SHIELD fell and Victoria “died,” the last thing she wanted was to be dragged back into that mess. Fury agreed to let her spirit herself away and give her a fake identity under the condition that she absolutely wouldn’t contact anyone from SHIELD, for _any_ reason. Hill knows vaguely where she is, and she’s fine with that. Isabelle…

...well, sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

So she moves, far enough away that she’ll be out of the line of fire, and finds a job with a decent-size company that has nothing to do with intelligence operations, and gets an apartment, and she calls herself Tori Knox and dyes her red streaks back to brown and she tries to forget.

That is, until a text pops up on her screen at eight fifty seven on a Wednesday night.

_From: Encrypted Number_

_Hand, is this you?_

Hands shaking, Victoria sets the phone down and goes to pour herself a glass of wine. Then she does a quick sweep of the room for bugs. Then she texts back: _Who is this?_

_You know who it is, Vic. You told me you loved me._

_There were...complications._

_Yeah, so I heard. You were DEAD._

_Those rumors were greatly exaggerated._

_Don’t get cute with me. I believed it, all of it, and you didn’t even try to contact me for EIGHT MONTHS._

_I was told not to contact anyone I knew. It wasn’t my idea._

_Fuck, Victoria. I… I can’t decide whether I want to kill you or kiss you._

_How did you even get this number?_

_Long story short, I’m “dead” too now. I badgered Hill into giving me the name that I knew they must have given you. After that, it was just a matter of simple detective work._

_Impressive, Veronica Mars. So did you just want to scream at me or what?_

_I don’t know. Can we meet somewhere? I want to talk._

_If I call this number, will you pick up?_

There’s a pause. It lasts five minutes. Then it lasts five more minutes. Finally, at nine thirty two, a reply comes in.

_Don’t call me, I’ll call you._

Victoria rolls her eyes.

“So,” Isabelle says after Victoria’s waited another few minutes for the phone to ring. “You’re alive.” She sounds composed, all things considered.

“And so are you, it would seem.”

Victoria hears Isabelle sigh deeply. “Like I said, long story. I’m Bella Carson now. Free to do whatever the fuck I please. Too bad I can’t get my asshole ex-girlfriend out of my head.”

“We never broke up,” protests Victoria.

“ _Don’t_ ,” says Isabelle, almost choking out the word. “I thought you were _dead,_ Victoria! I went to your fucking funeral! I just laid in bed for days afterwards not wanting to do any goddamn thing because I thought the love of my life was dead.”

A strangled sort of gasp escapes Victoria’s lips. “Isab-”

“And then, _then_ I found out you were alive all this time and you didn’t even try to tell me! You just...you just went on with your new life. I…” There’s a pause while Isabelle collects herself. “Have you found someone else?”

“No!” says Victoria, surprising herself with how fiercely she means it. “No, I haven’t been dating anyone. I didn’t even consider it.”

She listens to Isabelle’s ragged breathing for a long moment, and then she says, “Where are you?”

“Virginia, I-I’m in Virginia,” mutters Isabelle. “Laying low while I figure things out.”

“I’m in San Francisco. Can you get out here, do you need money?”

Isabelle makes a strange noise, and it takes Victoria a minute to realise she was laughing. “Not even gonna offer to fly me out there yourself?”

“Isabelle,” says Victoria sharply. “You know what I mean. Can you come?” _Will you?_

There’s another pause, one so long that Victoria’s about to hang up the phone until Isabelle finally says, “Yes. I’ll come, Vic. I’ll come see you.”

“Alright. I’ll text you the ticket information.” Before she can lose her nerve, Victoria adds, “I’m sorry.”

Isabelle sighs again. “I know. I’m still angry. I’m so fucking angry.”

Victoria hums in what she hopes is a neutral, non-accusatory way. “Didn’t say you shouldn’t be. I’m going to book your ticket now.”


	19. state of grace

The ride back from the airport is exceptionally awkward.

Not that Victoria really expected anything else. This is  _ not _ some silly romantic story, and she’s been terrible to Isabelle and Isabelle has every right to be upset with her. It’s still uncomfortable and Victoria has a lot of second thoughts.

Once they arrive at Victoria’s modest apartment, Isabelle glances around. “It’s not as big as ours.”

“Well, no, I’ve had to make do,” says Victoria, smirking. Then she pauses. “Have you been making payments still?”

“Of course,” snaps Isabelle, and then makes a face like she regrets that. “I hoped maybe once my team and I were done jumping through hoops for Coulson I could...well, it was a place to come back to.”

Victoria nods. They stare at each other for a long moment. There are about five different sentences on Victoria’s tongue -  _ I love you I missed you you’re right I’m an asshole why did you come here you deserve better than this -  _ but she doesn’t say any of them, just looks at Isabelle hopefully before asking, “Can I...get you anything?”

“I don’t know,” sighs Isabelle, “what do you usually do for dinner? It was a long flight and I didn’t eat much.”

“Honestly, takeout, more often than I should,” says Victoria with a wry smile. “There’s a great Thai place about ten minutes away that delivers.”

“That sounds good.”

It’s still awkward after the food comes and they sit together on Victoria’s couch, idly channel-surfing for background noise and pretending not to notice how they’ve automatically sat close together, thighs touching. But as they eat, Isabelle begins to crack jokes about the shows they land on, which makes Victoria relax and make snide comments of her own, and there’s a warmth growing in her chest that hasn’t been there in months.


	20. eyes open

When Victoria blinks awake the next morning, she has to rub at her eyes for a moment before they adjust fully. Then she realizes it’s because there’s someone in bed next to her. Someone who is watching her.

“Hi,” says Isabelle quietly. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thank you,” mumbles Victoria, glancing at the clock. Nine sixteen. That’s sleeping in late, for her. She’s taken the day off from work though, so that’s all right. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. I, uh…” Isabelle pauses, as if gathering her words. “I hope it was okay for me to be here last night.”

Here, meaning Victoria’s bed. Fuzzy memories from the night before are coming back now, of them both being sleepy from wine and Victoria saying she was going to turn in around eleven thirty, and Isabelle volunteering to sleep on the couch, and that arrangement lasting about twenty minutes before Isabelle came and slipped in next to her. She hadn’t tried to touch Victoria, since they both seemed to understand that it was too soon for that, but there she was next to her, all the same.

Victoria props her head up with one arm and says, “Yes, that- that’s fine, Isabelle. I know the couch isn’t the most comfortable.”

“The couch was fine,” says Isabelle nonchalantly. “It just seemed stupid for me to be sleeping there, when you were in the next room over.”

“Oh.”

They look at each other for a while. Then Victoria finally says, “‘belle, I...I’m sorry.” She’s fairly sure she said it last night, multiple times, but the wine makes it hard to remember.

“You said that last night,” replies Isabelle with a wry smile. “About six times, in fact. But as long as you mean it, I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“I do.” Victoria sighs. “I was terrible to you. I should have...I don’t know, done things differently. Found a way to contact you. That was a mistake.”

“Damn right it was,” says Isabelle, and her tone is light but Victoria can tell she’s being serious. “I spent an hour with a punching bag after I got the truth out of Hill. I was _so_ angry - I’m still angry, I’m just working on processing it differently now, because honestly it’s kind of hard to be angry at you when you’re lying there looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Just...awake and alive and so fucking beautiful, Victoria, oh my god.” Isabelle slams her face into the pillow and groans loudly. Then she looks up again. “You’re so beautiful and I never thought I’d get to wake up next to you again and I don’t even have _words_ for some of what I’m feeling right now.”

Victoria nods. “I don’t either. I never...I wanted...I thought about this sometimes. About you being here with me.”

“You did?” Isabelle laughs, and it sounds bitter. “Funny how you thought about it, but you didn’t think to try and make it happen.”

“What, and have Fury and Hill on my ass for ignoring their orders?” Victoria shakes her head. “But I could have tried. I should have.”

“Well, anyway, I’m here now,” Isabelle says, after a moment of silence, “and I’m starving. I don’t suppose you have pancakes?”

“I could make some,” says Victoria, “if that’s what you want.”

“I really do,” says Isabelle, moving to sit up. “I can make coffee. You have the same coffeemaker, I assume?”

Victoria shrugs. “It’s a good coffeemaker.”

“It is,” agrees Isabelle.

The strange thing (or maybe it’s not so strange) is that it feels _right_ , having Isabelle in the kitchen with her. For a minute, Victoria almost forgets that Isabelle’s angry at her and that they’re both technically supposed to be dead and not talking, and she’s tempted to go over and give Isabelle a kiss, but she stops herself. This is definitely not the time for that.

But maybe later, she thinks as they sit down at the table together and Isabelle smiles at her, that smile that Victoria’s been trying to get out of her head for months but she doesn’t know anymore why she wanted to. Maybe later they’ll work their way back to kisses.

She smiles back.


	21. enchanted

“I just don’t understand how you haven’t seen so many Disney movies!” Isabelle’s saying.

Victoria shrugs. “Never cared, I suppose. My parents didn’t care much for cartoons, and I was a fairly melancholy child anyway. It just didn’t seem important.”

“That’s right, I forgot you were a babygoth,” teases Isabelle. “ _Nightmare Before Christmas_ , I assume?”

“...I may have seen it a few times,” replies Victoria, scowling in embarrassment.

“Well, look, you have to watch _Mulan_. I insist.” Isabelle goes to Netflix search and starts loading the movie. “It’s not much like the legend, apparently, but it’s got a kickass girl in it. Came out when I was seventeen and I was probably too old, but I loved it.”

“Of course you did,” Victoria says, smiling fondly and settling in next to Isabelle as the opening credits play.

Of course there are childish bits - she would expect nothing else from a children’s movie - but a lot of it is surprisingly artistic and moving. And the songs aren’t bad either. (Isabelle definitely mouths along to “I’ll Make a Man Out of You,” which Victoria finds charming.) It’s a short movie too, not even ninety minutes, and Victoria finds herself a bit disappointed when it’s over.

Isabelle looks over at her, grinning. “Well?”

Victoria smiles back. “That was pleasant, actually.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Isabelle says, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Now I should show you _Aladdin_.”

Victoria just sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I fudged their ages by a bit because IRL Saffron Burrows and Lucy Lawless are in their mid-40s, but I realized that if I made them mid-30s I could make the Nightmare Before Christmas joke with Victoria. So for the purposes of this fic Victoria was born in 1979, Isabelle was born in 1981, and NBC came out when Victoria was 15 and it blew her mind (and that's where her wish to dye her hair red came from, probably).
> 
> At the point where I was doing that math, it occurred to me I was putting way too much effort into inconsequential details, but ah well.


	22. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't think I was going to make this joke, well. You have higher expectations for me than I do.

“I climbed my hometown’s water tower when I was seventeen,” Isabelle says, taking a swig of her beer.

They’re lounging on Victoria’s bed, facing each other, half-dressed and drinking. Isabelle had shown up at her door about a half hour before, grinning, six-pack in hand. Victoria hadn’t exactly intended for the evening to turn out this way, but all things considered, it’s not terrible. Even if Isabelle’s gotten it into her head that they should both tell each other _personal things_. Ridiculous. (It’s even more ridiculous that Victoria’s probably not going to lie when it’s her turn.)

“How did that happen?” she asks, reaching to play with a lock of Isabelle’s hair.

Isabelle shrugs. “It was the summer before senior year, obscenely hot, and Jane and I were hanging out with a couple of guys who lived in the neighborhood. I don’t remember either of their names now. Ryan, maybe? Well, Ryan said to me ‘hey Izzy, I dare you to climb the water tower’ and it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Victoria snorts and replies, “I’m guessing it turned out not to be?”

“Well, they didn’t catch me.” Isabelle smirks at her in that way that makes Victoria’s heart flutter in an embarrassing way. “And I got back down without breaking my neck. Pretty sure Jane’s still got a picture of me on top of that thing in her photo albums somewhere.”

“You were a daredevil,” says Victoria lightly. “My most embarrassing story from teenagehood is a navel piercing.”

Isabelle’s eyes widen. “No! You’re joking!”

“I’m not,” says Victoria. “Look.” And she rolls onto her back, gesturing to her stomach. She hasn’t actually used it in years, and she’d never consider showing anyone else, but she’s had a couple beers and Isabelle is...different.

She twitches just slightly when Isabelle runs her hands over Victoria’s skin - she’d been holding the beer, they’re cold - but wills herself not to react otherwise. “Interesting,” hums Isabelle. “I’d never have guessed.”

“Not many would,” admits Victoria. “It’s a well-kept secret.”

“Well, I’m honored you wanted to tell me,” murmurs Isabelle, pressing a kiss to Victoria’s stomach.

“Getting ideas while you’re down there?” Victoria asks playfully.

“And what if I am?”

“Then I think you should share them. It’s the polite thing to do.”


	23. haunted

“Isabelle,” says Victoria, unable to keep the mild exasperation out of her voice, “you do realize that everything in that film was fictional?”

“I looked it up,” says Isabelle, her voice muffled from where she’s huddled under the blanket. “They were all real people and it was a real paranormal investigations case.”

“It was  _ your _ idea to watch it in the first place.”

“Well, fuck, I didn’t know it was  _ actually  _ going to be scary!” Isabelle pokes her head out to look plaintively at Victoria. “You weren’t scared?”

“I was occasionally startled or disgusted, but no, I wasn’t scared,” says Victoria with a roll of her eyes. “Ghosts are not real.”

“We live in a world with aliens and superheroes and you’re definitely going to say ghosts  _ aren’t _ real?”

Sighing, Victoria points out, “You’re a former level six SHIELD agent with years of specialized training and you single-handedly killed multiple HYDRA agents. You’re going to tell me you’re afraid of a stupid ghost that’s definitely fictional?”

“Good point, but…” Isabelle scoots over to put her head in Victoria’s lap. “It was still scary as shit.”

Victoria smirks down at her. “Next time will you listen to me when I say watching horror movies at night is a terrible idea?”

“Yeah,” sighs Isabelle.

“Good. And we can sleep with the lamp on if you’d like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, I decided they were watching The Conjuring, but if you are an actual horror fan and didn't find that scary, feel free to mentally insert the movie of your choice. I am a wuss who's seen exactly four horror movies and none of them were even particularly scary, so I'm not the person to be asking about what is and is not actually a good/scary horror movie.


	24. come in with the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided they moved to Geneva. I have never been to Switzerland and all of my knowledge comes from internet research. Let me know if I've gotten something very wrong, please.

About half the time when Victoria comes home from work, Isabelle’s already there. Sometimes she’s already got dinner started, or sometimes she’s wrapped up in a project (she’s taken to amateur woodcarving in lieu of having other reasons to use her knife), but it’s always obvious that she’s there. The apartment feels different when she’s there. (That’s the kind of thing that Victoria would have scoffed at before, but… it’s true.)

The sky’s clouding over on her way home, but Victoria doesn’t think anything of it, and when she comes home to an empty apartment she shrugs it off. Isabelle’s probably running an errand. Victoria means to rummage around in the pantry for dinner, but instead she ends up curled under a blanket on the couch, dozing with NPR on in the background.

She wakes up half an hour later at a spectacularly loud thunderclap. Swiss thunderstorms come up suddenly like this in late spring, and she’s mostly used to it now, but sometimes she’ll be startled awake like this. Everything else is quiet, save the talk show coming from her phone and the sound of the rain outside. She reaches for her phone, blinking, but when there are no new texts, she frowns. Isabelle’s probably just still out, but with how the rain’s pouring she can’t help but be concerned.

She sends a quick  _ you doing all right? _ text, and then heads into the kitchen to find something for dinner. Might as well have warm food waiting when Isabelle gets home.

The rainstorm lets up after another fifteen enthusiastic minutes or so, and soon after that Victoria hears a key in the lock. “Hello,” she calls as Isabelle comes in. “Enjoy the downpour?”

Isabelle laughs. “I went for a run. It was really nice up until the storm started.”

“And then you stayed out in it? You realise you could have come home and gone out again after it stopped?” Victoria teases.

Isabelle walks over, and she’s quite a sight, tank top and shorts plastered to her from the rain and her hair still dripping. “I was in the park already, and I was making good time. I took the path under the trees, but I’m not sure it actually helped much.” 

Victoria chuckles. “Well, I’ve got stir fry cooking. You’d better go shower and stop dripping on my kitchen floor.”

“ _ Your _ kitchen floor!” Isabelle flicks some water at her. “You sure you don’t wanna come with? I could make it worth your while,” she adds with a flirty look.

“You go ahead, this has a couple more minutes and then I’ll be right with you,” replies Victoria, smirking.


	25. bad blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this one isn't exactly centered around them, but oh well. I felt it was important for Victoria to know some of the details about what happened with Hydra. It's also set a little after chapters 17-20.

Victoria dislikes most people. That’s just a fact about her, and it’s been true her entire life. She finds most people useless at best and irritating or insufferable at worst. She’s able to mask it, sometimes, when she needs to (usually for work), but she doesn’t make it a secret either.

Isabelle is one exception. Jasper Sitwell was another.

Sitwell liked making stupid jokes, but he was also competent and discreet. He knew how to get work done well and efficiently, which seems to be all too rare anymore. And he respected her enough not to waste her time, which Victoria really appreciated.

And then she finds out he was Hydra.

Of course, she doesn’t find this out until Isabelle found her. She probably wasn’t even supposed to know he died, but she’s done some covert digging about other high-ranking SHIELD members in her spare time, looking for… for what, she still doesn’t really know. Closure? Confirmation? 

Jasper Sitwell’s obituary is a short blurb in the paper, three lines about his work with the CIA (nice touch, Victoria thinks, always a good cover) and mentioning a still-living sister and a niece. It’s respectful, brief, and complete bullshit.  _ Hit in a traffic accident my ass _ . But she doesn’t know the full story until Isabelle tells her.

It’s about a week after she’s appeared, and they’re drinking wine and talking about what happened the day SHIELD fell because that seems like a great activity for a Tuesday night (it’s probably not). “Garrett, that bastard, I can’t believe him,” growls Victoria. “He was always a little smug, but this is just…”

Isabelle nods. “We didn’t want to believe it either. Especially people like Sitwell…”

“What?” Victoria sits upright. “Sitwell too?"

“Yeah, he was the biggest surprise for me. I guess he’d been hoping to sell us out for a promotion.”

“Motherfucker!” Victoria chugs half the glass. “If he was still alive I’d kick his ass!”

“If you believe the rumors, Agent Rogers and the Winter Soldier already did that for you,” says Isabelle with a grin. “I know it’s crazy, though.”

Victoria puts her head in her hands. “I almost  _ liked _ him. Bastard!”

Isabelle reaches over to put her hand on Victoria’s arm, which almost shocks her out of her anger. That’s the first time Isabelle has touched her since she’s come back. “He was a good agent. Too bad he was also a lying sack of shit.”

“Too bad,” echoes Victoria, shaking her head.


	26. fearless

Some would call Isabelle Hartley reckless, or foolhardy. Isabelle prefers brave. Victoria prefers fearless.

Granted, it is frustrating as hell to know that Isabelle will volunteer for every mission that seems interesting, regardless of the dangers. Victoria doesn’t worry - not much - but all the same, knowing that her girlfriend takes risks that are mostly unnecessary makes her a little anxious. She’s more at ease when she knows Isabelle is training recruits or on standby. 

Isabelle’s not, of course. She gets restless between missions, she needs something to do. Usually that ends up being a lot of hours in the training rooms, sparring or target practice. Victoria likes watching those sparring matches when she gets a chance. It’s usually with Morse or Hunter, although the former is a better partner for Isabelle. 

When Isabelle spars, Victoria gets a glimpse of how she is in combat. She throws her entire body at her opponent, allowing her height to give her an advantage. And even though she never uses her knife during these fights, it’s obvious where she would be in a real one. It takes Victoria’s breath away to watch her; she’s like a force of nature. 

Isabelle once hit a target dead center between the eyes twelve times in a row with her knife, and she has the ruined target hanging in her bunk to prove it. Guns make her uneasy, she explains, because there’s no guaranteeing where the bullet will go once it leaves the gun. “Get up close and stab someone in the knee, that’s where it’s at,” she says proudly.

Victoria sometimes wishes Isabelle would use guns more often. Knives force you to get close to your opponent, which Isabelle loves, but there’s too much that could go wrong at close range. She wouldn’t ever say this, of course. Isabelle already knows it all.


	27. I knew you were trouble

It’s another whirlwind day at the Hub, and Victoria’s counting the hours until she can hole up in her bunk and call Isabelle. She has a conference call with Agent Coulson in ten minutes, and she can honestly say that she’d rather eat glass than talk to Fury’s pet agent today. Fury’s supposed to be there as well, but that doesn’t help much.

Then there’s a knock at her office door. It’s not completely out of the ordinary, but she’s not expecting anyone and Sitwell and the others know better than to just come to the door. So she stands up and carefully steps over to where the security camera feed is mounted. (She’s tried to have it moved closer to her desk, but to no avail.)

What she sees comes as a total shock. _Isabelle?_

Sure enough, her girlfriend is grinning up at the camera. Victoria goes to unlock the door, her confusion probably obvious on her face. “Isabelle, I thought you were on an op.”

Isabelle shrugs. “I mean, I was. Am. Technically. Hunter and Idaho are taking care of it.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“They know I’m taking a personal day.” Isabelle ambles into Victoria’s office. “It’s a nice big office, isn’t it?.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “You’re taking a day off during an op to come and see _me_?” It’s flattering, for sure, but irresponsible at best.

“I missed you,” replies Isabelle casually, stepping forward to kiss her. “Can you get away for a bit?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, no,” sighs Victoria. “I’m supposed to get a call from Coulson in a few minutes. I’m sure Fury will want to weigh in on it too.”

“Oh.” Isabelle tilts her head, as if she’s thinking. “Well, can I hang around while you do that?”

“If you stay quiet,” says Victoria with a smile. “I can only imagine the fit Coulson would throw if he knew you were in here listening.”

Isabelle snorts and nods. “I can do that.” She goes to move one of the chairs in front of Victoria’s desk around to the other side.

“Making yourself at home, I see,” teases Victoria.

“Why shouldn’t I?” says Isabelle, flopping into the chair. Victoria sits down in her own chair and glances at the clock - three minutes until their agreed call time. She dials into the system and waits for him to do the same, glancing over at Isabelle in the meantime.

Isabelle, who is sliding out of her seat.

Victoria gives her a quizzical look but before she can ask what’s going on, she hears Coulson say, “Hello? Victoria?”

“Hi, Phil,” says Victoria, then feels something down by her feet. She slides her chair back to check if something’s fallen off the desk...

...and sees Isabelle smirking up at her. “ _What are you doing?_ ” Victoria hisses.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Phil,” says Victoria, leaning back over her desk. “You wanted to talk about those proposed new security measures? Is Fury here too?”

“I’m here,” grunts Fury. Maria calls out “hi” as well.

“Hi.” Well, at least Maria is tolerable and not long-winded.

Coulson starts to explain the basic security system specs, which normally Victoria would be listening to, except she feels a pair of hands slide up the inside of her legs. She starts, and glances down to where of _course_ Isabelle is pushing her skirt up and out of the way. Victoria glares and decides to ignore her, because paying attention to this will only encourage it.

“So, I know at the Hub security’s a little different, and I don’t know some of the details on that,” Coulson is saying, and Victoria tries to pay attention but Isabelle has reached up to ease her panties off - _really?_ \- and it’s sort of difficult to ignore that. “Can you give me more details, Victoria?”

“Yes,” she says, “certain areas require a biometric hand scan for entry and only permit agents of a certain level-” She bites her lip to keep from yelping because, well, Isabelle’s definitely started sucking on her clit. “- _access_ ,” she finally hisses, glaring daggers at Isabelle. Isabelle just looks up at her smugly and flicks her tongue around Victoria’s center.

“Hm, okay. So what we’re proposing is another layer of that, with eye scanners as well as hand scanners, since that seems to work so well for the override protocols. Fury, Hill, anything sound concerning so far?”

“Mostly in terms of expenses, because-”

Isabelle’s still eating her out enthusiastically and Victoria is quickly losing her composure. She grips the desk tightly and presses her lips together, trying not to make any noise. But a little half-sigh escapes anyway and she hears Isabelle chuckle in satisfaction. _Damn you_ , she thinks, her hips moving against Isabelle’s mouth of their own accord.

_Somehow_ , she manages to make it through the rest of the call, only letting out embarrassing sounds a couple of times (and explaining them away with ease, because she didn’t get to where she is now without being good at fabricating bullshit excuses on the fly), and once she’s said a strained goodbye and hung up Isabelle dips her tongue inside. “ _Jesus christ,_ ” she groans. “Isabelle-”

Of course, Isabelle’s too busy to reply, but Victoria can practically _hear_ her grinning.

“ _Fuck_ , shit, ‘belle-” Victoria interrupts herself with a moan, and after that she becomes embarrassingly incoherent.

And once she’s shuddered through her orgasm and Isabelle has cleaned her up, her girlfriend comes up to kiss her on the mouth. “You’re terrible,” murmurs Victoria against her mouth. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, would you?” teases Isabelle. “I just wanted to see if we could embarrass Coulson again, but y’know, I wouldn’t mind that. This desk of yours seems sturdy.”

Victoria snorts, which would be more impressive if she wasn’t still short of breath. “No, trying to clean wood like this is a nightmare.”

“Sit on your face, then?” Isabelle asks hopefully.

And, well, it’s hard to come up with a compelling argument against that.


	28. starlight

When they first move to Vernier, Isabelle insists they go on short walks together about once a week. “It’s exercise,” she says over Victoria’s protests. “It’s easy exercise and we’ll be spending time together. C’mon.” She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

Victoria sighs. “I don’t know what you think you’ll accomplish by making that stupid face.”

“Annoying you into humoring me?”

That makes Victoria laugh.

So they go walking, sometimes on Saturday afternoons or Sunday mornings, but more often it’s in the evenings or after dark during the week. Their apartment’s not far from a nice little park, which is usually where they end up. It’s a fairly quiet area, especially in the evenings, and no one really bothers them.

Victoria doesn’t like to admit it, but she especially likes when they’re out late enough that they can see the stars. When she was _much_ younger she took the time to learn all the constellations, for reasons that now seem ridiculous. It’s been years, but she still remembers them all.

“Oh, it’s Draco,” she says, somewhat absentmindedly.

“Hm?”

“Oh, I...the constellation Draco. You see Ursa Major, there? Draco’s a bit to the right, it sort of makes a hook.”

Isabelle snickers. “I had no idea you were an astronomer.”

“God no,” replies Victoria. “In the fifth grade Sabrina Haynes wanted to be an astronaut, and I wanted…”

“Sabrina Haynes?”

“Essentially. So I learned the constellations, I guess because when you’re ten you’re not fully in possession of logic or reason.” Victoria shrugs. “It’s one of those things you don’t forget, god knows why.”

Isabelle bumps her shoulder against Victoria’s affectionately. “All these years I’ve known you and you still do shit that surprises me.”

“Just keeping it interesting,” says Victoria, squeezing her hand.


	29. welcome to new york

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a fun Femslash February. I hope you've enjoyed the story as much as I have. (It's certainly gotten more attention than I thought it might, which is exciting!)

They keep tabs on SHIELD and the Avengers, of course. Not nearly as closely as they used to, but as much as they’re able to glean from news reports and rumors. Isabelle even starts checking some of the more biased sources, since their anti-super stance occasionally yields more helpful reports or detailed pictures. When the Inhumans start going public, Victoria’s surprised to see the little upstart hacker from Coulson’s team - Skye? but that’s not her name now, she’s Agent Daisy Johnson - leading most of the press conferences. 

“Seems like it’s been pretty exciting while we were away,” says Isabelle with a wry grin. 

Victoria nods. Alien descendants from an ancient civilization, interference from the US government proper in SHIELD matters...she’s glad they can watch it all from a distance. Coulson must be running himself ragged over all this. ( _ Director  _ Coulson, she thinks, which is still about the funniest thing she’s ever heard.) The last battle, with the enormous alien and the strange golden gauntlet, seems like a bureaucratic mess, to say nothing of the PR nightmare. Victoria is never gladder to be Tori Knox, tech project manager. 

Eventually, it all dies down a bit and the dust settles. “Do you want to go back?” Isabelle asks one day, out of the blue. “To the US, I mean. Maybe New York."

“Outer New York, if anything,” corrects Victoria with a smile. “Avengers Tower is still in Manhattan, after all. Let’s not take any chances.”


End file.
